Murder in the Woods: A Warrior Cat Mafia

Round 13, Part 4

Barleythorn wearily pushed himself up onto his four paws, having watched almost every cat vote him guilty. But Cherrypool had been voted innocent. Without a word to anyone, except for his mate, Goatleap, and his son, Bullheart, he padded out of the barn.

Cherrypool pressed up against Bullheart's pelt, both relieved that she could stay and sympathetic about his father's exile. Barleythorn was old, and he would barely be able to survive by himself unless he managed to find Ryeblaze out in the forest.

"He'll find Ryeblaze, Bullheart. He'll be fine," she assured him. The ginger tom just shook his head and pulled away.

"No he won't, Cherrypool. He's doomed like the rest of us," he muttered. The large tom padded off, away from all of the cats around him who would soon be gone as well.

Almondfall moved up to sit down next to the calico she-cat, his tail waving slightly. "Bullheart may seem like he's overreacting, but he does have a point. There are only twelve of us left now. It will all be over before we know it. I'm surprised that cats haven't started leaving yet."

The comment attracted the attention of Oatstrike, who was silently walking behind him. She moved forward, becoming visible as she kept walking, and spat at him as she passed by.

"We're not leaving, Almondfall. Any true clan members are going to stay to see these murderers slaughtered," she growled. Almondfall stared back, eyes wide, before she eventually withdrew her gaze and disappeared behind a bale of hay.

When he looked back at where Cherrypool had been sitting, he found that she had left as well, probably into the hay bales. Realizing that he was alone, Almondfall shuddered, then went back to where the rest of the clan was gathered. Being alone was very dangerous in a situation such as theirs, and he was not going to be such easy prey.

That night, Boarstorm, the deputy-turned-leader of FarmClan, sat on top of a bale of hay, hidden from view as best as he knew how. There had been too many murders. This night, he would stay awake to spot the murderers as they chose their next targets.

When a shadowy form stood up from one of the nests, and began to creep toward the nests where Wheatflower and Mousepaw slept, Boarstorm knew that he had found his killer.

"Of course it was you. I should have killed you ages ago," the ginger tom spat, talking to himself. But he wasn't expecting the reply he received.

"I could say the same about you." Boarstorm whirled around, only to feel a set of claws dig into his throat. He fell down onto the hay, staring up at the glowing eyes of his attacker with nothing but pure hatred.

"Coward," he hissed, barely able to make a sound come out. The second murderer knelt down beside Boarstorm's face, meeting the gaze with a disdaining one of their own.

"I prefer the term guerrilla," they replied. With one more flick of their claws, they had dispatched Boarstorm for good. Finished with their job, they descended the stacks of hay, ready to return to their nest.

In the morning, Mousepaw awoke to a feeling of dread. Without looking, she knew that something terrible had occurred. She gulped, then slowly turned her head to the side. Wheatflower's nest was empty.

"Wheatflower!" Mousepaw cried aloud, beginning to panic. She couldn't lose everyone in her family. She couldn't. She stood up from her nest, only to find a clump of fur snagged on the nest of her mother. A clump of fur so completely soaked in blood that its real color was unrecognizable.

"Mousepaw, get away from there," Sheepwatcher's deep, raspy voice ordered. The old tom pulled her back, even as another cry echoed from their right.

"It's not raining, is it? Then what just fell on — Boarstorm!" Plumsong yowled. He ran into view, chest heaving heavily as he looked at Sheepwatcher, blood dripping down the side of his face. "Sheepwatcher, Boarstorm was murdered!"

"Our deputy," Honeyshine mewed, voice quivering with uncertainty, "what are we supposed to do without him? How do we vote?" The clanmates looked at each other, all worried.

"I say we just all vote for who we believe to be the murderer. Whoever gets the most votes gets exiled," Goatleap finally declared. The cats nodded. It made sense.

"Let's vote then. But we must also let voting to exile no one be an option," Peartail pointed out. The cats all murmured their agreement, and the voting began.

Murdered: Boarstorm, Wheatflower
Healed: Goatleap
Accused: No one
Revealed: No one
Revived: No one
Murderers Left: 2